Category Archives: Booze

The holiday season is when we allow an elderly man that lives as a recluse to break into our homes. I dare anyone to look at these two iterations of Santa and wonder who wouldn’t feel totally terrified of this man? So much red. Redrum.

the holiday horror show that are these depictions of Santa at the medical supply store near my old apartment. Make sure you’re healthy before Santa attacks you and forever haunts your nightmares.

It doesn’t help that every year that my friends and I get photographed with Santa he somehow finds a way to inappropriately touch me (see). Leading to this joyful Christmas joke:

Hilarious.

Which is why it makes total sense that my beloved, and miserable, cat George decided that Christmas was the perfect time to die. He had no time for candy canes, or laughing babies, or the inappropriate sexual advances of Santa. “Fuck it,” he thought. “I’m just going to die instead.”

I feel ya, George

Though there are always bright spots, like this Vonnegut fan at the local Wawa giving all customers this Christmas miracle.

Is that the star that the Wise Men followed?

And of course there is also when your friend knows you so well that she makes you into a Christmas .gif depicting you as a cheerful Christmas elf that you so truly are. Or at least you drinking.

Drinking till the New Year.

Glad that you’ve all survived the holiday season. I’ll see you in the New Year where we can start our plan to kill Santa.

“Janie, how do you face life with such ebullient enthusiasm?” an imaginary person that I created for this scenario once asked me.

“Well, imaginary friend, I think the most important thing about life is approaching the day to day mundanities with jolliness and good cheer so you can see the sanctity that exists in every single moment,” I responded beatifically.

But I guess I could have just cut to the real meat of that sentence by showing the imaginary friend my beverage that I bring throughout the streets of Philadelphia:

I only own one kitchen appliance. It’s a skillet. It’s made of iron. It’s so large that it could cook me.

leg of lady is on the menu when I’m cookin’, Jack.

The only reason I haven’t thrown it away is because I am sure it could double as a weapon.

But on a rare occasion when my supper isn’t cold pizza with several Yuenglings and a couple ounces of hot sauce, I’ve been known to try and cook rice in that sucker.

But I was steaming the rice with an old VHS organizer

The end of the rice story is that the faux-wood ended up peeling off into the rice and the chemicals mixed with the grains to create a cloud in my kitchen that might have been a noxious and poisonous gas.

But at the end of the day I can still use that skillet to ward off intruders.